


By Candlelight

by onehorneddemon



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies - Sonnenfeld)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Married Couple, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onehorneddemon/pseuds/onehorneddemon
Summary: His wife looked down at the floor with no response to the morbid joke. She was feeling far too sensitive for humor tonight. Gomez noticed her silence, and adopted a gentler tone.“You’re even more lovely by candlelight.”“Because you can hardly see me?”Gomez blinked. “Because I can see all of you. All of you is aglow.”________Morticia shares a small insecurity of hers with her husband. Gomez reminds her how much she means to him.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	By Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> Still chugging away at chapter 4 of that other fic, but this is something short I wrote around a month ago to try and get the hang of writing for these two, and I figured I'd post it. This takes place approximately two years after Morticia and Gomez get married, before they have any kids.

Gomez collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving and a wild grin plastered onto his face. “How many was that?” he asked weakly. “Seven?”

Morticia gave him a satisfied smirk. “I counted eight,” she replied a bit breathlessly. She crawled into bed next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Though I may have missed one of yours while we were both blindfolded.”

“Missed one? What a shame… care to see a re-enactment?” her husband asked with a playful wink.

Morticia laughed- a rare sound, but one Gomez treasured. “I think you’re spent for the night, darling. Look at you, it’s as if I’ve sucked the life out of you. Not bad for a Tuesday night if I do say so myself.”

“There’s still life in me yet, cara mia,” Gomez assured her, but as he spoke, he struggled to keep his eyes open. Morticia caressed his cheek gently, and he hummed, low and content, the noise trailing off as his breathing evened.

When she was sure he was asleep, Morticia pulled on her black silk robe and shut out all light in the room except the single candlestick by their bedside. She grasped for her hand mirror in the dim lighting and used a handkerchief soaked in witch hazel to wipe off the makeup she had applied that morning. Though she hated to undo all her hard work, she far preferred to sleep with a clean face, lest she wake up with a stained pillowcase. First went the eyebrows, then the eyeshadow, then the contour, and finally her trademark blood red lipstick, until her face was bare. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, turning her head to the side. Dead was the Morticia of the morning, and in her place was someone with a face far more vulnerable than she cared to present to the world. She looked like a beautiful corpse.

“Angelita mia.”

Morticia turned around to her husband craning his neck towards the mirror, smiling gently at her.

“Mon cher. I thought you were asleep.”

“Half asleep. Or half dead. I wasn’t quite sure… but the sight of you has brought me back to life.” He was looking at her with such intense adoration even in his exhausted state.

“Even like this, face bare as a skull?” she asked with a smile. It was partially a joke, but in that moment she realized how accustomed her husband must be to seeing her with all her makeup on. She often woke up earlier than he did to apply it all, and was back in bed by the time his eyes fluttered open. Of course he had seen her without it before, when they would bathe together, when they went swimming in a cold dark lake on their honeymoon two years ago, when they were both young… when he was seeing Ophelia. A part of her hated to admit that she felt more secure, more adult with a full face of makeup. Not only was the look just her preference, but she felt it made her distinct from her sister. They were nearly identical, after all, and while Gomez had assured her that he only had eyes for her, that Ophelia was not even remotely attractive to him, that did little to ease her nerves. If they were indeed identical, if their faces were the same and Gomez disliked one of them...

“Bare as a skull and twice as striking,” Gomez stated, beaming at her. “And even if I were blind to your beauty, they say it’s what’s inside that counts. You have all a man could ask for. A good heart, brains, blood, pulsating innards...”

His wife looked down at the floor with no response to the morbid joke. She was feeling far too sensitive for humor tonight. Gomez noticed her silence, and adopted a gentler tone.   
  
“You’re even more lovely by candlelight.”

“Because you can hardly see me?”   
  
Gomez blinked. “Because I can see all of you. All of you is aglow.” He sat up, grasping his wife’s shoulders in his firm hands, looking deep into her eyes. His brown irises caught the light of the candle and very nearly glowed gold. “Cara mia. Mi cielo. Mi vida. Understand me when I say that I have loved your face from the moment I set eyes on you. You weren’t wearing a drop of makeup on that day.”   
  
“Neither was Ophelia.”   
  
“And she is nothing to me, nothing compared to you.”   
  
“What is there to compare, Gomez?” Morticia asked softly, her voice weaker than she expected. “We have the same face.”

Gomez leaned closer to his wife, brows knitted in concern. Was his goddess doubting her own beauty? Unthinkable. “Tish.  Mírame.”

Icy black eyes met fiery brown.

“To the average passerby, you may look identical… but you’re as different as night and day.” His mustache twitched as he curled his lip. “First of all, Ophelia is a  _ blonde _ .”   
  
Morticia did not laugh, but Gomez caught a twinge of a smile on her lips. Jokes aside, he continued. “Ophelia doesn’t have your lovely widow’s peak. She doesn’t have the same tilt of your brow.” He pressed a feather-light kiss to each eyebrow, eliciting a soft chuckle from his wife. At last, that beautiful sound. “She doesn’t have your cheekbones. No one else’s are as sharp.” Another kiss. “She doesn’t have your jawline. She is far more rounded, and you, your jawbone would make a fine steak knife.” A series of kisses along her jaw. Morticia hummed happily. “She doesn’t have your eyes, your steely gaze, deep black pools I could drown myself in. She doesn’t have your lips.” 

Gomez took a moment to brush Morticia’s bottom lip with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed gently, the warmth of her breath a stark contrast to her cool skin. Without lipstick, without contour, without everything, Gomez could see everything he loved about his wife, and more. He could hold her face, run his fingers along it without risk of smudging anything- he so admired her artistry, but it often was a thin veil between them. Seeing it removed was like marrying her all over again. “The crisp angle of your cupid’s bow, the slow curve and soft pout when you’re angry…”

“Mon cher.”

“Cara mia.”

Gomez leaned in, kissing her more tenderly than ever. Morticia wrapped her arms around him, letting her eyes fall shut in bliss. Her husband only pulled away from the kiss for a moment, leaning to whisper in her ear.

“And when we grow old together, Ophelia will not have your crow’s feet, marking that twinkle in your eyes. She will not have the lines framing your lips when you scowl and when you smile. She will not have the wrinkle on your forehead where you raise your brow. You will grow finer with age, Morticia- like wine, like the stars, and the moon, and all its craters- craters that will be yours and yours alone. And I will love them fiercely.”

Morticia pulled her husband into a far more passionate kiss. She tangled her hands in his dark hair, dropping her hand mirror onto their stiff mattress. There was no need for it when Gomez could describe her so perfectly.


End file.
